Confessions
by Genim Stilinski
Summary: One week after Dean was taken to Hell, Sam recounts the tale  for a slightly disturbed Bobby of how the two brothers fell in love. WINCEST Hurt!Sam  Eventually will be graphic
1. Chapter 1

Confessions

Sam slid out of the wrong side of the impala; that is to say, the driver's side. It wasn't entirely unusual for him to drive his brother's car, but without him, in the passenger's seat or waiting at whatever crappy motel they were staying at, it was weird. However, this time was different. This time, Dean wasn't waiting for him; he was in hell, and Sam was in agony.

Dean had been gone for over a week, and he was just now going to see Bobby. Thus, he found himself walking up to the familiar doorway of Bobby's home. In a way, it was a home to him too. He and Dean had stayed there enough times in their lives to feel that way. The only places more familiar were the impala and his old dorm. Sam desired to be neither places, though. He had shared his dorm with Jess, and the car with Dean. At the moment, he couldn't stand to be alone, so he placed his fist to the door to knock.

"Bobby," And there it was. As soon as his friend (no, his second father) opened the door, the tears began to flow. He had held them back for so long that it amazed him how easily he lost the ability to do so. But, as one of only two people to have ever seen Sam cry in his adult life, Bobby knew it was best just to let him in and get him a beer.

Sam immediately found his way to the sofa as Bobby offered him an open bottle. He, much to his friend's dismay, chugged the entire thing, and placed the now empty bottle on the floor by his feet.

"Take it easy, son," Bobby was visibly shaken, "or you'll have one hell of a hangover in the morning."

"I can't believe you just said hell." Sam offered a slight smile before taking the other beer out of Bobby's hands and guzzling the amber substance within.

"Goodness Sam, I know this isn't easy, but why are you doing this to yourself?" He set down the second bottle next to the first, and stared down at it. He knew full well what he needed to say, but that didn't make it any easier.

"I loved him, Bobby."

"I loved him, too, but you have to know that there wasn't anything else you could have done." Sam giggled.

"No, Bobby, you don't understand." The tears came again as looked up. "I was _in love _with him." Bobby stared in disbelief and slight horror before proclaiming that he needed to find some stronger beverages, and leaving. Sam sat waiting, no longer bothering to wipe the tears away. Bobby returned carrying a few bottles of varying colored liquids, and sat down next to Sam.

"Sam," he placed a shot glass and a bottle in front of the distraught man beside him, "how'd this all start?" Sam poured himself a shot.

"Dean."

* * *

**January**

Dean stepped into the cold, ugly motel room to find that Sam was already in bed. The shades were drawn, the lights were off, and his brother was pale and shivering.

"Why'd it get so cold in here? I was only gone for a half hour, tops." He placed dinner (takeout) on the small table, and went to sit on the other bed.

"All the heaters in this building went out. It'll be a good two hours before the electrician can get to ours." Shit.

"Did you ask for a different room?" It was the dead of winter in Ohio, and excessively cold.

"All the other rooms are booked. Apparently, there's a big concert tonight. People are pouring into this town from everywhere."

"Great." Dean kicked off his boots, and strolled lazily to Sam's bed. "That's just great. Scoot over."

"Why?"

"Because your bed's already warm and mine's not. Now scoot." Sam looked at him with a look of shock and 'you've got to be kidding me', but he did it anyways. That is, after Dean put on the puppy dog eyes. He slid in, but found himself on the very edge.

"Can't you move over any more?"

"Seriously, dude, how much room do you think I have? I am on the edge, just like you." Dean grunted. They sat watching Oprah reruns for all of about ten minutes before officially becoming bored out of their own minds.

Something about the cold, mixed with proximity to one another made both men squirm. It was as if neither could get close enough to the other.

"Damn it, Sammy!" Dean finally belted out of frustration, "Will you please hug me or something? I'm freezing!" Usually, Sam would have given him a nasty comment, but the cold compelled him to comply. He wrapped his lengthy, but built arms around his brother, accepting the warmth as an acceptable trade to the awkwardness that was bound to ensue the next morning.

"Is this any better?" Dean pulled his head away from Sam's shaking body to respond.

"Yeah, don't let go." He resumed the burial of his face into his brother's over shirt.

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

"So, you fell in love with your brother because you igits _cuddled_?" Bobby took another swig of his vodka and stared at Sam.

"Well, it's a bit more complicated than that. For one, neither of us even mentioned it in the morning. It felt too good."

"So you managed not to fight, for once in your lives, and _that's _how it happened…"

"No, we…we started touching each other more often, and looking at each other differently." Sam fumbled with another bottle of booze and, upon discovering he was too drunk to even open it, abandoned it on the side table. "And then one day, when we were both drunk, he kissed me."

* * *

**February**

Dean slid up to the bar next to Sam after a rather successful round of hustling drunken idiots at pool.

"I managed to get 500 bucks this time around. Not my best take in the world, but if we can hit another bar on the way to Colorado, we should be able to splurge on a better room." He took a swig of the beer that was waiting for him.

"Yeah, that's nice." Sam was hunched over their father's journal, looking for any clues as to what they might be facing in Denver. Somehow it seemed that there might be more than one thing in town.

"Come on, Sammy. Loosen up and have some fun, for once! You can read in the car." He took the journal out of his brother's hands, hiding it in the back of his pants, where his gun should have been. However, he gave it to Sam to hold on to when he played pool, since the game required one to bend over. After someone saw his gun in nowhere, Missouri, it seemed like a good idea to not have one.

Sam openly scowled at the removal of his research material, but followed it with a deep swig of his beer.

"Damn it, Dean." The aforementioned man simply smiled.

"That's it, Sam." He turned to the barkeep, slapping on the counter, "Hey! Can we get some purple nurples down here?"

* * *

Two hours later, both men were slurring their words, and staggering back to the nondescript motel next door.

"So Dean," Sam giggled out, "can you even remember that chick's name?" A young woman at the bar took to throwing herself at the elder Winchester after he'd had a few, and she ended up sulking away after a few more.

"Nope." He grinned, taking amusement in the fact that he was so hammered.

"Well, she was pretty."

"That's just the booze talkin', dude." He fumbled with the keys, trying to figure out which of the four locks he saw was the real one.

"How would you know? You've had twice as much as me!" He pushed passed Dean in an attempt to get first shower.

"Yeah, but you're twice the lightweight as me." He flung himself onto the bed closest to the door, out of habit more than anything, and ripped off his boots.

"Whatever, jerk." He shut the door to the bathroom with a slight thud.

"Bitch." Dean snapped back, without knowing if his brother heard him.

A good ten minutes passed where he stared at the ceiling, contemplating the texture upon it, before Sam trudged out of the bathroom.

"Dean, are you alright?" Yeah, he was drunk, but never had he been as sorrowful in the aftermath of the evening as he seemed now.

"Yeah, Sammy. I'm just thinkin'." He sighed, letting his hands slide from his chest to the bed beside him.

"About what?" Sam was genuinely intrigued. It was so rare that Dean would show the full extent of his emotions, that no matter what, he had to ask about it.

"Well, you." He sat up, taking in the surprised look on his younger brother's face.

"Care to elaborate?" He placed his hands on his toweled waist, and awaited a reply. It was a bit frightening to think about what it could possibly be that would make him look so sad, especially if it had to do with Sam.

Dean staggered off the bed, and over to the other man, placing his hands on shoulders for support. Sam stood as still as he could, looking into his brother's beautifully green eyes.

"Sam," He started, wondering whether or not he should go on, "I have something to tell you."

Sam placed his hands around Dean's waist to help him stand, as he had began to sway.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"No, Sam. I love you." That made no sense to Sam, as told by the questioning look on his face, so Dean did what he could to make him understand. He lifted a heavy palm to Sam's cheek, and gently caressed it, before bringing fourth his lips to meet Sam's. To his surprise, he found them slightly parted, as if waiting for him. Dean slid his tongue in gently, intertwining it with his brother's.

Sam deepened the kiss, knowing how wrong it was, but also knowing how much he wanted it. He wondered absently if Dean would remember in the morning, and hoped that if he did, there would be no freak out moment. After all, Sam had waited for what felt like forever to do this. He found that it was everything he, wanted, expected, and so much more. The love that permeated that kiss was evident with every miniscule moment.

* * *

"So, I'm guessing that Dean didn't panic in the morning." Bobby reclaimed the bottle that Sam had given up on opening, and poured them each a shot from it.

"No, he did, but we talked it out." He took the beverage appreciatively, and downed it, ignoring the burn.

"And how'd that go?"


	3. Chapter 3

**February**

Sam woke to find that Dean was already awake, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

"Dean, are you alright?" He pulled the sheets around his naked form, and awaited an answer.

"No, not really." His brother watched as he stood up, and walked to sit at the table, where breakfast was waiting.

"Well, we can't pretend that nothing happened."

"I know that." He rustled in the bag of doughnuts, and pulled out a stick, looking down at it with slight disgust.

"So I think we should talk about it." Sam wrapped the sheets around his waist, and joined his brother at the table.

"Look, Sam," He said, pointing with his donut stick, "I was drunk, and I told you my greatest secret. Then, I was so drunk I proceeded to act on it. It was wrong, and I don't know what to do." The donut suffered a fatal bite, and fell to the table. Sam looked down to his lap, before replying.

"What if I feel the same?" he twirled his thumbs, and bit at his lower lip.

"Sammy," His voice was pleading, which depressed Sam to no end. He prepared for the inevitable jilt. "You know we can't. We're brothers." There it was.

"Does it really matter?" He lifted his head, allowing Dean to see the sincerity of the words in his eyes. "I mean, since when do we conform to societal rules?"

"It's more than a societal rule. Incest is a stigma."

"So is digging up dead bodies, but we do that all the time."

"That's different."

"How so?"

"We do that for the greater good, and all that crap."

"And when was the last time we did anything for ourselves?" Dean's breath came in short, near panicked bursts, before he gave in. He stood, walked over to the other chair, and straddled Sam, before leaning in. He pressed their lips together harshly, running his fingers through soft, brown locks, and slightly rolling his hip's against Sam's hardening length. Moments later, he pulled back, and looked deeply into his brother's eyes. Dean spoke one word, and one word alone.

"Okay."

* * *

Sam and Bobby shared one last shot before the older (and less drunk) of the two men closed the bottle.

"Come on, Bobby…one more?" Sam shamelessly put on his biggest puppy dog face, and pleaded with his eyes.

"No, Sam. You've had enough. It's time for bed." He moved past the knackered young man on the couch, and locked the remaining booze in the safe, so that said young man wouldn't be tempted.

"Aw, Bobby…" He wined. The older man threw him a blanket from across the room.

"Go on, Sam, get some sleep." He didn't get a response; instead, the drunken man lied back on the sofa, barely covering himself, and shut his eyes. Bobby smiled a bit, and went upstairs to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Sam woke up with the massive, yet entirely expected migraine. He sat up, holding on to the coffee table to keep the room from spinning. Bobby was in the kitchen, and the scent lofting in the air told him that there was coffee to be had. Yet, he dare not move, for fear of falling down.

"Hey, Bobby." He managed to call out to the man in the kitchen.

"Mornin'." Bobby walked into the room with two cups of steaming brown liquid, one of which he set in front of Sam.

"Listen, I-" he was cut off by the look on Bobby's face.

"It's okay, Sam. I know it was tough, talkin' about all of that last night, but that's what I'm here for. You don't have to explain anything.

"Thanks, Bobby." He took a tentative sip of his beverage, and moaned out of sheer delight.

"I had some of that vanilla junk you like to put in there."

"It's great!" He smiled for a moment, and then it faded.

"What is it?" Bobby sighed, sensing what was to come.

"It's just, the last time I had this stuff in my coffee was that morning that Dean and I…"

"Became lovers?" As harsh as it sounded, it needed to be said, and Sam couldn't do it.

"Yeah."

"Wanna tell me more?"


	4. Chapter 4

**February**

Dean returned from the 7-11 just in time to watch Sam awake from his deep slumber. He was curled up in the center of their shared bed, blankets askew, and hair mussed. All of it was a reminder of the amazing sex they had the night before; it was their first time, and he would never forget it. He stood there in awe of the "sleeping" beauty before him.

"I know you know I'm awake, De." He called from the pillow.

"Yeah, so?" He set the bag of breakfast items on the table.

"So what's taking you forever to come back to bed?" He smiled, still keeping his eyes closed. A smile danced along Dean's face as he quickly removed all of his outer garments. He slid into bed next to Sam, into his waiting arms, and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"You know I like to watch you sleep." Sam opened his eyes lazily to peer into his lover's.

"I know, but meanwhile, I have to wait for what I like."

"And what's that?" He knew, of course, but he still liked to hear it.

"I like to hold you, and have you near me. You're so warm."

"Yeah, I'll miss this." Dean received a tight squeeze for his comment.

"Don't talk like that…we still have time to figure it out."

"Yeah, under a month. That's all. Please excuse my pessimism, but I'm starting to worry that we might not."

"Look at me, Dean." He removed one had from his brother's side to cup his cheek. "You are not going to die. I won't let it happen." Their eyes searched one another's, before Dean slid out of bed and padded back over to the bag he brought.

"Alright, Sammy, we've got a lot of driving to do today, so let's have breakfast." With a grunt, Sam crawled down the bed, the way he knew Dean liked, and slowly joined him at the table.

"What are we having?" He sat down, trying to slide the bag away to look.

"Well," Dean slid it right back. "I got you that vanilla crap for the coffee, a honey bun for each of us, and they had some decent looking strawberries, so I got those too." A bright smile, unlike any other Dean had seen in the past few years, graced Sam's face at the mention of the fruit.

"I can't even remember the last time I had strawberries." He slid the plastic container over to look at them.

"And that, Sam," he walked over to stand behind his love, placing his hands on the strong, bare shoulders before him, "is why I'm awesome."

Sam slid his hands up to his brother's, and tipped his head back to look at him. Dean responded by leaning forward, and giving Sam a rather spiderman-esque kiss (upside down). Despite the awkward positioning, and Sam's morning breath, Dean managed to snake his tongue in, and work his lips to the fullest.

Sam reciprocated the kiss, allowing his lips to part to allow Dean's entrance. His hands traveled up his brother's arms, stopping at broad shoulders to pull him closer. When Dean finally broke the kiss for some much needed air, he smiled down at the sight before him. Sam's lips were still parted, and he was flushed.

"You're right, Sam. I'm not gonna die yet. You know why?"

"Alright. I'll bite. Why?" He kept his head backwards to see.

"Because I have too much to live for now." He slid a delicate finger down his lover's jaw line, and gave him one more quick kiss. If at all possible, it elicited an even nicer smile from the younger man.

"Come on, Dean. Let's just eat our breakfast"

* * *

"How long was it after that drunk kiss that you two finally…consummated your relationship?"

"About a week. We were gonna take it slower, but, under the time constraints, we kinda gave up on waiting." He took a sip of his vanilla flavored coffee, and looked back to Bobby.

"Yeah, I can't imagine that it got any easier as the contract came closer to being due."

"You're right. It became really hard to pretend that we could save him. So, in our last week, amongst the research, we made the most of it. We pretended, until we couldn't."


	5. Chapter 5

May 1st

12:00 a.m.

"42 hours."

"What?" Sam propped himself up onto one elbow to face Dean.

"That's how long I have. 42 hours." He continued to stare at the ceiling, drowning in his own thoughts and emotions.

"I promised you that I would find a way to save you. You don't have to worry so much."

"I know, but since when have we ever been able to really save one another?" He shifted in the bed, finally facing his lover.

"We're heading to Bobby's house in the morning. I'm sure we can find some way to find and kill Lilith before time runs out."

"Don't you ever get tired of research, college boy?" Sam smiled for a moment, reveling in the short bit of humor in all of this crap.

"Never." Dean slips a hand to rest on his lover's side, giving what little reassurance he could.

"I am really trying not to freak out right now, but you have to bear with me, Sammy."

"I know." The sorrow was evident in his voice; not knowing how to help Dean. Thus, he did what he knew to do best; he scooted closer, and leaned in for a kiss.

Dean allowed Sam to lead, and parted his mouth slightly for him to deepen the kiss. The younger man wasted no time in doing so, while wrapping his arms around his lover's smooth, muscular torso. Dean hooked his hands on the edge of Sam's boxers, and pushed them down in a single, fluidic movement, and then did the same with his. Hardening lengths clashed against each other, while tongues and lips fought for dominance.

Sam rolled them both over, straddling the man now beneath him, and readjusting his hands to move across his lover's chest. This elicited a throaty moan from Dean, who then grabbed a hold of his brother's waist. Both grinded into each other with skillful synchronization, as if they had done it for years.

"Dean…" Sam moaned between deep kisses, "Is this what you want?" Dean panted.

"I couldn't think of a better way to spend tonight." With that, Sam resumed his assault on his brother's lips, as he fiddled with the nightstand drawer to find the lube he stashed there. Dean ran his hands over his heaving chest, stopping at his nipples to twist and tweak. Sam continued to grind, moaning in pleasure of the movements on his chest and groin, while he generously applied lube to three of his fingers.

Dean knew as he heard the bottle crash back down to the open drawer what was coming next. In anticipation, he placed his hands atop Sam's shoulders for support, and spread his legs wider.

"Are you ready?" Sam watched as Dean nodded, and then pressed one slick finger in as far as it would go. Dean bucked upward, an involuntary response he had become accustomed to, and held on to Sam. After a moment, he crooked his finger, and stroked it in and out. Soon, one finger became two, two became three, and Dean's gasps of shock and discomfort became moans of pleasure.

"Oh God, Sammy, I'm so ready…" He barely managed to breathe out. Sam removed his fingers, and pressed his firm member to Dean's opening, circling before finally pressing in all the way to the hilt.

Dean's sharp intake of breath accompanied the initial thrust; and Sam nearly came at the sound. It was so delicious. He kneaded the crevices of Dean's hips to make him relax, while swallowing the sounds they both made with another kiss. Dean responded, but slowed the pace of the kiss as a way of telling his love what he wanted. Sam knew immediately that he was gonna have to go slow.

Without asking, he slid back out to the crown, and slowly pressed back in. He rolled his hips forward with every maddeningly slow stroke, searching for the spot that would make his brother see stars. It took a few tries, but he finally managed to rub the tip against Dean's sweet spot, causing him to shoot forward.

"Fuck! Sam, oh…ugh…" His words become sounds as Sam continued to stroke against him in just the right place.

"Dean, I don't know how much longer I can last." His ability to form a complete sentence surprised even him as he felt the pull begin in his lower abdomen.

"Faster now, Sam…" He gasped, "wanna feel you come…inside me…" He hissed as he felt Sam's hand leave his side and find his straining dick between them. Strong, upward strokes accompanied the strokes that hit his prostrate, causing his eyes to flutter.

"Dean! I'm gonna…" Warm strands of come forced their way out of him and into Dean, who began to orgasm as well. White, sticky mess sprayed between them as they rode it out.

Sam collapsed to the side and pulled out, placing his forehead against his lover's shoulder.

"I love you, Sam. I really do."

"I'll love you forever."

* * *

"He told you that he loved you?" Disbelief tainted his voice as he responded.

"Yeah, actually, it was the first time he ever said that." Sam drank the last of his coffee and set the mug on the small table before him.

"Well, you do know that he loved you all along, right?"

"Yeah, I know, Bobby."

"You know, it may sound stupid, and believe me, if it were any other circumstance, I'd think so too, but if talkin's not enough to make you feel better, you might consider writing him a letter." Sam looked up in slight disbelief.

"How can I send him a letter? He's in hell."

"I never said you'd try to get it to him, ya idjet. I just meant that you could write one and pretend that you could. Get it all out."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea."

* * *

A/N: Well, readers, the final chapter is upon us. The next one is the epilogue. Reviews are love!


	6. Epilogue

A/N: Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me this long, giving your reviews, praise, and time of day. Special thanks goes to my beta, Little Miss Rosie, for reading through all of my work prior to posting so that you all didn't have to deal with typos and bad writing. So, here's the final chapter...the epilogue. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Sam pulled his laptop up onto the small table in front of the sofa. Bobby had gone out, presumably to go get more booze, but he knew better. It was to give Sam the chance to write his letter in private. Thus, he opened up word, and began to type.

_Dean,_

His hands trembled slightly as he gently tapped at the keys.

_Just over a week ago, I had the worst day of my life. I failed…I couldn't save you. Lillith took from me the only thing in this crazy, fucked up world that mattered. Two weeks ago, I struggled to imagine…no, I didn't __**want **__to imagine a world without you. Now I am alone._

_I told Bobby. He listened, like always, but I get the feeling that he isn't as good with it as he pretends to be. At least it wasn't as bad as if I had to explain it to dad. He would have killed me! Anyways, Bobby's trying to help. He let me stay the night, and talk it out. _

_I couldn't keep it together. I know I promised you I wouldn't, but I cried. A lot. And Bobby and I had a bit of a chick flick moment. I know you'd call me soft right about now, but I really don't care. I wouldn't mind you calling me soft every day for the rest of my life if it meant that you would be here._

_Remember when I promised you that I would love you forever? Well, I still mean it. I won't let you go. I can't. I will find a way to bring you back, no matter what. You didn't deserve this. You died to save me. It should be me, not you. So, I'll make it work. We will be together again. That's a promise. Forever._

_Love, _

_Sam_


End file.
